Alex James has been causing a bit of a stir. The erstwhile Blur bassist turned artisan cheese enthusiast, has decided to turn his talents to some truly unholy creations, aka the Alex James Presents range from Asda. This selection of yummy concoctions offers discerning diners everything from Cheddar & Ketchup to Cheddar & Salad Cream slices, via Cheddar Tikka Masala and a few other more traditional options.

James responded to the criticism through his column in the Sun: "One critic called my ketchup-flavour cheese 'an abomination' without even tasting it - just like the crusty establishment figures reacted to punk rock when it came out. There is so much snobbery about food. I love everyday cheese and I love posh cheese. There's room for everything."

It remains to be seen if the dairy world's answer to The Stooges will make an appearance at the forthcoming Alex James presents Harvest festival on his farm in September, an event that promises figures from the food and music worlds alike, from Yotam Ottolenghi to K T Tunstall, but it feels unlikely. Harvest also overlaps with the British Cheese Awards taking place just down the road and organised by Alex's former cheese mentor, Julia Harbutt, but it seems unlikely that any genuine cheese enthusiasts will find it hard to decide between them.

Perhaps everyone's being a bit harsh on him. It's not like Asda are stepping out of their comfort zone with his suggestions. The range takes a spot on shelves bursting with Primula cheese spread with ham, an own-brand coronation cottage cheese, Mexicana cheese, Ilchester Applewood Smoked Flavoured Cheddar Cheese ("added ingredients: smoke flavour") and of course the classic Branston and Marmite concoctions.

Waitrose, meanwhile, are also in on the game thanks to Heston Blumenthal, a man not backwards in coming forwards when it comes to ripping up the cookery rule book, making it edible and pasting it on the walls. He has, according to their website, "combined his stunning flair and touches of alchemy with the supermarket's rigorous standards for something truly unique".

While his stilton potted with 30-year-old sherry and mascarpone probably won't be sharing a cheese board with any Alex James Presents items any time soon, his vanilla-flavoured salt and Cabernet Sauvignon mayonnaise match the curry cheese in grotesque ambition. And future products will be as unusual as you, the public, want. "Somewhere along the line we might try to push the boundaries a little bit further and see how experimental people are" Heston says on the website. "People might be more experimental when it comes to desserts but maybe they don't want their bacon messed around with."

My first foray into the strange world of food hybrids came courtesy of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles chocolate and marshmallow pizza (also bought at Asda) that I don't think my mother, or her oven, will ever let me forget. It might have been endorsed by green cartoon reptiles rather than a well-known bassist, but it was no less wrong. Last month in Bilbao, meanwhile, I foolishly tried squid ice cream after a few too many in the Pintxos bars. Not nice; I should probably have plumped for the artichoke sorbet.

Ice cream is another one of those products that manufacturers feel is fair game. The simple recipe has been bastardised more often than cheese and had its simple formula introduced to all manner of incongruous flavours. It's had to make small talk with bacon, balsamic, and breast milk, fennel, fish, salt and soy sauce in a constant search for something new.

As Jay Rayner noted last year, bizarre food combos are becoming less unusual - most people invite the occasional pair of odd bedfellows into their homes (a commenter's honey and Marmite duo also being one of my favourites) - and you can't blame manufacturers for innovating. They're after the next trendy niche product, the next chilli and chocolate, and it makes life more interesting for us, especially when they unlock a pairing based on sound principles that works perfectly. It's just sometimes they seem to conduct these brainstorms drunk.

Crisps are another blank canvas for overenthusiastic flavour teams, and Walkers in particular have gone hog wild over the years, bringing us spicy mango chutney, baked bean, haggis, BBQ kangaroo, the Stephen Fry Up and of course the competition-winning Builder's Breakfast.

Unexpected, and often uncalled-for, indeed. But then again, since when did prawn cocktail crisps become, to use Alex James' analogy, "establishment"? Nowadays they seem as natural as ready salted. Maybe in a few years we'll all be enjoying a nibble of kimchi and tuna cheddar or mayonnaise-infused stilton with a glass of port with pork essence, while round the country people sit down to sweet and sour cheese on toast. Stranger things have happened.